Black

A mysterious colour so unknown

It’s a part of me and within my soul

consuming me at times

till I open my windows

To stream some light.

I like it more on my outside though

Covering my circumference

To a leaner glow

And for compliments

that I adore;

when I embrace you

Outside my core.

It absorbs me, it fills

That’s it’s wit and it’s will

 

A mysterious colour so unknown

What happens inside a Black hole

Or Black money found at every pole

Few colourless, blackmail some souls

Is the night only black ? ! I am doubtful though.

Why then that day was called a black day

When humanity wore a cold colour

To see red – to end some lives

Oh for which colour do we fight ?

 

Black is mystery beyond our thoughts

Close your eyes to feel it within

Rub them closed to see the phosphenes

C’mon be intuitive – it’s in your genes

While at it , did you see some other colours too?

 

Black has a lot to offer

Only if you could reach

It holds within a different promise

For everyone within its reach…

 

Promt : The Daily Post.

Preeti Manaktala.

Advertisements

The boy on the bench

Sympathy

I was waiting for a friend, we had plans to have coffee together. I decided to sit outside and wait for her. He looked beautiful, innocent. He was sitting on the bench across the road , must be all of 9 or 10 years. Same age as my boy. Almost the same built, dark hair and deep eyes. Sitting on the bench he watched people pass by. What was he observing ? What did he first notice on them as people walked past him in a rush , some on the phone and some pretending to be on the phone, some rushing with a purpose and some without. It’s not strange why no one observed him. Was it because he has no shoes on him or was it because his t-shirt was too big for him. or was it because he sat there without a purpose ? He seemed lost maybe disillusioned. His hopeless eyes sought nothing it seems. Briefly troubled by a fly as it was hovering his head for quite some time now. Tired , he stopped moving his hands to shoo off the adamant being . He gave up on the fly but the fly was in no mood to. They became friends it seems.

The wisdom in his eyes didn’t match up with his age. He stood up to stretch and to scan the dustbin near by. He picked up a thing to taste it and threw it back inside. He searched again and then discovered a half eaten banana. The earth below me was shaking or was it me ? I had shivers and tears rolling down my eyes. My boy would be in school eating his healthy lunch at this time. So, why is this boy less deserving ? We may name destiny, karma or fate ? He doesn’t belong here and why just him and million kids like him surviving this irony called life.  We went in as my friend arrived and sat down for our coffee, my eyes still on him as I chose to sit by the window. Saw him playing with a broken toy which he must have discovery next from the shacks he scanned. He seemed happy and contended. I couldn’t eat a morsel fearing what if the boy outside spots me  enjoying my sandwich. I felt ashamed eating.

I directed my driver to come across the road. I stood close to the bench he sat on as he continued playing oblivion to my presence. He made roaring sounds with the broken car. Don’t all kids play alike , all have small little hopes , all expect a little love and attention except for this one boy on the bench. I couldn’t gather courage to approach him or even look at him. Though I wanted to sit and talk but I didn’t. I wanted to ask his name but I didn’t. Why ? What was I ashamed off ? He looked at me for a few seconds and then looked away. I must give this to him before my car arrives I thought . I held out the box to him and said ” this is for you”. He stood up and stared at me. “Some food for you in this box, please eat”. He took the box with a wide grin and his smile reached his eye. As my car rolled up on our side and I was getting in he asked me my name -” Preeti ” I said. He folder his legs and sat back on the bench to open the box and shouted “Aur main hoon Srikanth”(and my name is Srikant) and waved me an animated bye. He must have sat there since morning with some amount of wamble in his stomach but what kept him contended ? What kept him going each day, what did he expect from life each day? He did not beg around for food as if he expected nothing from the world around him it seems. Moreover, he wasn’t ashamed of asking my name. His name and his life state didn’t agree . ‘Srikant’ – which means lover of wealth and fortune.

Sympathy was what I felt for myself after meeting Srikant. Antithetical is life.

Recite

 

I knew what to recite today. It was his favourite song. A hymn from my school almanac. Every time I sang it brought a smile and a tiny tear to his eye. Maybe he liked it as much as I did. The high notes of this hymn did agree with me ,without my voice going into a shiver. So we waited , me and my sister for the evening and for him to return from work. A daily competition between me and my sister of who will sing the best tonite. And the judge being my Papa .

We waited for him to change and settle. For him to finish his dinner with the daily dose of his news at 9 took 30 minutes.

We never recited together. Our voices never matched and still don’t . She wanted to go first and I would always let her. Thinking the last song I sang would garner more praises and would have a good recall value. Or so I thought !

She sang, she was good today and It was my turn now.

I sang with all my heart, I sang to take his tiredness away  so his day would end on a sweet happy note. I sang with reverence in my heart for the one who was out for 12 hours a day. Never took a day off . He who had 3 shirts and 6 days of work. He who never shouted on us a single day. He who had no demands . He who was and is still a pillar of strenght.  He must smile throughout my song today and a tiny tear in his eye would mean he is touched, and that would be my medal for tonite.

The song ended. He called us both to hug us and pat us on our back. We were hoping for his verdict on who was the best amongst us. But like each day he said  “ How lovely you two sing , Very good, very beautiful songs, thank you for singing for me.”

We both wanted to know who was the best singer from papa but he never said , never compared. As we both lay in bed she said “ I think I was better today” and I argued “ No, I was”. As I closed my eyes I thought which song would I recite tomorrow for my dad to be the best. But the verdict till date remains the same and He still is the best dad.

Morning Tea

An every morning affair …

Tea

It’s 6 am as the alarm goes off and I struggling to get 5 more minutes of my time on the bed. Snooze it man! It’s now 6:15 and I hear my husband cajoling my kids to get up. It’s a signal for me too to get out of bed before he roars on all 3 of us.Me finally out of the bed and into the kitchen now feel a bit of stiffness around my waist, a bit twisting and turning helps and I begin the process of making 4 tiffins for the day. Each day a new struggle what to cook and then to convince them to please finish their tiffins or else….!

So while I am at it my hubby has already ushered them into the bathroom for their morning ablutions and rushes back in the kitchen for a quick hug. Boys are now at the table and me trying to recollect what went into the sandwiches yesterday as my boys don’t like a repeat in their tiffins. Gaurav my hubby serves them each a banana and 7 almonds to munch and comes back to the kitchen again,no not for a second hug but to warm their milk. “I need the microwave so hurry up with the milk please”, I sprout. Today they want cheese on toast which needs me to pre heat the oven. The milk is done but the boys still focusing too hard on the banana. My hubby’s ‘Late ho Jayega, c’mon fast be fast’ is still making no difference to their speed. I serve the boys some butter toast to go with the milk and the younger one declares its potty time for him. So while I am laying the breads in the oven Gaurav takes him to the loo. Now since my younger brat wants someone always around as he sits on that throne, his father uses this time to re-iron and straighten the folding lines from their school uniform while listening to the younger one yank about what this boy did to him and what that teacher told him and why and how he lost his pencil yesterday yet again. Meanwhile the elder one who has finished his breakfast declares that he wants to use the bathroom. FYI,  we have 3 bathroom but my boys are in love with this one alone coz the other 2 has imaginary spiders in them which are always visible to them but always invisible to me.

A war like situation near the bathroom, my 2 tiffins are done yet 2 more to go . It’s 6:50 and the younger one still has to finish his food.He is brought back to the table by his papa and he is non stop chattering about this girl who troubles him in the bus.Morning is the only time he remembers the past future and present and wants all his answers too. My husband now sits down with him to help him finish his toast while checking his office mails in between replying him with a wow yes and no . The elder one my accha bachcha is almost ready and so is their second tiffin . Today they have pasta for lunch in white sauce as requested by them last night. What an accomplishment , but the water bottle still needs to be filled and I call out for my assistant to help and my knight in shining armour appears back in the kitchen to have them filled as I pack up their lunch boxes into their bags. It’s 7:10 I rush in my room to change my clothes as it’s time to drop the boys.  As I comb my hair to look civilised I see my husband struggling to get my younger one wear his shoes while  the elder one is out of the house and threatens to leave as the lift arrives and the little one hopping on one legs shouts ‘Bhiya wait na’.. We are finally at the bus stop and I exchange my greetings with the moms around while reminding my boys that I want their tiffin boxes empty. As the school bus rolls in and I kiss them goodbye I say a short prayer as they alight to keep them safe while they are away.

Back home and its time I always look forward to for my morning cup of chai (tea) with my husband just the way he makes it ekdum kadak masala chai. This tea just makes my day as we to sit down with the newspaper and the hot cuppa and our usual chit chat.

So this is like what happens every morning. Things go a little berserk when he is travelling. I have to do everything on my own. Not that I can’t but he has certainly spoilt me in these 16 years. And NO, I haven’t trained him at all , he has been like this since I have known him. Once I even told my MIL this “ If your man treats you like a princess its a proof that he has been born and raised in the arms of a queen”. She was so delighted and happy to hear this.

I am blessed to have a companion in him who helps me day in day out. Gives me my freedom. Supports me and guides me as a mentor. He is all practical and I am emotional and so I rely on his advice and decisions many times. He is the best dad my boys could have, one who reads them stories at night, attends all the PTM’s with me , takes them for their games and classes over the weekends , shops with them while keeping a tab on their academics as well.A hands-on-dad for sure. Touchwood.

I am secretly hoping that my boys too will turn out like their father when they grow up. But just hoping won’t help here . How do I make them responsible and humane ?  I am sure there is an indirect learning as they see their Papa take on house work with so much ease each day. Very often my elder one pitches in to help. On other days I call out to him for small chores he can manage.  Some simple ones like –

Help me prepare the table for dinner

Help me clear the table post dinner

Folding his comforters as he step out from his bed

Using the wiper to clean and dry the bathroom after his bath

Fill the empty bottles for the fridge in summers

Water the plants

Help me in the simple task of the kitchen at times

Clean his study table and organise his drawers.

Keep his shoes back in the shoe rack. Et al…

Some simple rules. Small steps – one at a time. Won’t be long before I create thorough gentlemen out of my boys. It is very important they understand and realise that it’s not a women job alone to run the house.

So, Don’t hesitate to delegate and ask for help whether you have a girl child or a even a boy.

Happy families have Happy Helping Hands. 🤗

 

 

 

Fragrance

Fragrance

So vivid yet strong

Each different from the other

It trickles my memory 

A feeling so known

This fragrance brought with it

A whiff of days bygone 

Of stories still fresh

It brings back a memory

Mostly sweet

Seldom pain

Is this some kind of factory

My olfactory sense

So sharp and precise

With many stories

Some fullfilled 

Some divine

 Acts like a time machine

Takes me to that place again

As you pass through my breath

 I reminisce we meet again

Yes , I liked you back then

  Dear Fragrance 

Is it why that you stayed ?

                                             The Daily Post : One word prompt : Fragrance

                                             Preeti Manaktala

 

Lollipop

Lollipop

Those summer nights

still fresh in my mind

as we lay on our roof top

gazing the stars

finding their look alike

spotting the Orion

drawing shapes in the sky

joining the dots

flaunting my calibre

made animals and virtual flowers

But waiting to spot

the shooting star showers

and just then again like each times

bedazzled by it’s light

I forget to wish upon it’s swift flight

now thinking what to wish for again if I see

breaking my thoughts

softly he speaks

‘the moon is on leave today

and so is the breeze’

I listen with rapt attention

to my dad as he knows more

about galaxies and world beyond our reach

seeing a cluster he pointed joyfully

that’s an Andromeda my darling

many light years away

the name as big as the distance

made no sense to my compact mind

though it looked like a lollipop 

I promised to pronounce it right

on our next star gazing night.

 

                                             

                                            Daily Prompt Lollipop

Edible

What I take in me is Edible

It could be a resonating thought

Or knowledge I want to aquire

Or a memory that bring a smile

 

Praises are always edible

Food that appeals to the eye

Inspires , adds to your true growth

 

Meat isn’t edible

For the body nor the soul

Its nothing but a dead body on a platter

And makes you scatter

 

Hatred isnt edible

It like self murder

Vices were never

 

Add a filter

To each passing thought

To each morsel you take

Keep only the pure

Stop containing the rest.

The Daily Post : Edible